Bury Them All: A Cultivator's Path

Chapter 4

The next morning, freshly washed, Silas heard the bell ring again.

Near the bridge, he was surprised to find Bram already there a rare sight, since Bram usually kept to his loft or vanished on errands, never showing interest in corpse duty itself.

Watching Bram bow and greet several arriving disciples told him immediately: whoever had died this time mattered.

His fingers twitched with anticipation.

"Greetings, senior brothers." Silas bowed to the white-robed group, mourning bands visible on their heads, and included Bram in the courtesy out of habit.

Bram, predictably, ignored him — too busy performing enthusiasm for an audience that, unlike Silas, returned the courtesy without condescension.

"If you two wouldn't mind," one of the visiting disciples said, voice rough with grief, "help us choose a resting place for Junior Brother Elden."

Formation Peak, Silas noted, recognizing the badge at the man's waist.

"Consider it done!" Bram said quickly, thumping his own chest. "I know this ground well — I'll find somewhere worthy of him."

"Then let's bring the coffin up, brothers," said the one at the front — Rowan Chase — turning to address the others behind him.

"Status buys a coffin and a proper escort, apparently," Silas murmured, eyeing the sandalwood casket without further comment.

Bram led the way. Silas and the Formation Peak group followed.

Half an hour's walk later, Bram stopped, turned, and gestured grandly. "Here we are — birdsong, wildflowers, a beautiful view. A fitting resting place for Junior Brother Elden."

Silas glanced around and frowned faintly.

"That's not right," one of the Formation Peak disciples said, pointing off to the side. "Those are handyman graves over there. Are you suggesting Junior Brother Elden be buried among the lowest ranks in the sect?"

"Ah this spot" Bram floundered, clearly out of his depth.

Bram spent most of his time on Skypillar currying favor with better-connected outer disciples; he had no real sense of the mountain's actual geography. Silas, who'd buried nearly everyone who ended up here, knew better than to place someone important beside people beneath them — and he knew enough to stay well clear of the restricted zones reserved for peak lords.

Caught out, Bram had no answer ready.

Silas glanced at him, then turned to the disciple who'd raised the issue. "Brother Hollis means we should move a bit further in."

"Yes exactly that," Bram said hastily, plastering on a servile smile.

The disciple gave him a cold look. "Let's move, then."

They walked on, Bram still nominally leading, until they reached ground marked with proper headstones.

"Here we are, brothers," Bram announced, gesturing at the inscribed graves.

The group ignored him entirely, looking instead to Silas, who gave a small nod of approval before they stopped.

Bram's expression soured visibly.

"Junior Brother Elden — today, I break this ground for you." Rowan Chase's voice was heavy with grief as a blade appeared in his hand.

Boom.

A few effortless strokes carved a square pit into the earth, soil scattering outward.

"Let's lay him to rest, brothers."

The coffin was lowered in. Rowan took the first shovelful himself, and the others followed in turn, each adding a portion of earth.

When the last of them had finished, Bram stepped forward with a smile. "Senior brothers, allow me to finish this."

The disciple handed over the shovel without argument.

Bram took it reverently and began working the soil for a dozen strokes or so, at least, before shooting Silas a cold, expectant look.

Silas would have finished the job regardless of the hint. But watching Bram's attempts at flattery clumsy enough to embarrass actual livestock he decided not to say so out loud.

He simply took the shovel and did what he was good at.

Bram brushed off his hands, delighted, and went to make small talk with the Formation Peak disciples.

An hour later, Silas finished the grave.

Technique acquired: Sky Burial Cultivation Art (seventh level). Formations acquired: Lost Formation, Killing Formation, Minor Spirit-Gathering Formation.

Immortal experience gained. Formation experience gained.

Spirit root fragment gained.

The light faded from Silas's eyes, and he walked toward Rowan Chase and the others without expression.

Behind him, the Formation Peak disciples finished raising the headstone, carving in their inscriptions, laying out offerings before the grave.

"Junior Brother Elden  travel well." Rowan poured a bowl of wine over the fresh earth, grief plain in his voice.

One by one, the others followed suit, wine spilling into soil, eyes rimmed red.

Silas noticed Bram going through the same motions with his own bowl a performance, nothing more  and sighed inwardly at the sight.

When the rites were finished, Rowan turned to the two of them and clasped his fists. "My thanks for helping us find the site. We'll take our leave now."

"Think nothing of it, brothers  this is the least a junior could do." Bram's smile came fast and eager.

But when the Formation Peak disciples merely inclined their heads at him and turned to go, he scrambled after them.

"Brothers  wait. I'd like to propose something, if you'll hear me out."

They didn't so much as glance back.

What Bram wanted, of course, wasn't complicated — outer disciples were always angling to have a spirit-gathering array laid down for them, a far more efficient path to cultivation than burning through spirit stones one at a time. Inner sect disciples got the privilege for free. Everyone else had to pay through the nose, and pay privately, to formation specialists willing to take the work.

The Formation Peak cultivators did plenty of such business on the side — just never with someone like Bram. They wanted nothing to do with him.

Still, Bram wasn't ready to let it go. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to people who could actually arrange a formation for him, small or otherwise, and he wasn't going to waste the opening.

"A thousand low-grade spirit stones," he called after them. "I'll pay it gladly if senior brothers would set even a minor gathering array for me."

He lunged forward, trying to physically stop them from leaving  until Rowan turned and fixed him with a look cold enough to root him to the spot.

Inner disciples didn't need to raise a hand to deal with someone like Bram. A glance did the job.

"Fine," Bram muttered once they'd vanished from sight, fury simmering under the surface. "Give me a year in the inner sect and I'll make you regret today."

So this is how it actually works, Silas thought, walking alongside the departing group, careful to keep his expression neutral. He'd watched Bram ignore him for weeks, too proud to bother with a rootless mortal  and then watched that same pride evaporate the instant real cultivators walked past, groveling until he was refused outright and didn't dare complain.

It was, Silas reflected, an excellent lesson in exactly how this world worked. Going forward, he decided, the safest path was to want nothing from anyone and stay quietly beneath notice.